by BJ Hanlon
Something fell to the right, the head of some boar that had previously been on the wall. It crashed into the bench and a tusk shot off like a stone that was thrown into a harder one. The soldiers all jumped.
The other one looked up at Arsholnol, then back at the justicar. He turned to run but a moment later, he was stabbed through the chest with the justicar’s blade.
The justicar turned to the ranger who was blistering and clearly in pain. How the man was still standing was a mystery.
The justicar said “make sure none come down.” He pushed the body of the soldier off of the stairs and took his place.
Arsholnol locked eyes with Edin. There was terror in them now. The man was going to die and he knew it.
“Not the way you’d planned it?” Asked Edin feeling almost sorry for him. Almost.
“You’ll die too…” said the guard, his voice shaky.
Edin stepped up again, he followed the stairs up as he backed slowly around the rising circumference of the lighthouse. Above him, the trap door was closed and smoke was beginning to gather like a cloud beneath the floor.
Through the smoke, he could see the fire climbing. It grew faster both up and to the side. Below, Arsholnol was looking scared, he could no longer see the ranger but the justicar’s face said he’d die if it meant killing Edin. A loony zealot.
Below, glinting in the firelight, he saw his sword, still stuck in the body. He really didn’t want to lose it. He climbed higher and he began to taste the first bit of smoke. It had dropped to about five feet beneath the floor above and the fire was flickering through it like lightning in a cloud.
He didn’t have time. Edin dodged Arsholnol’s last strike and turned to run.
The smoke stung his eyes as he barreled through and up the steps. He kept his arm out to tell him when he was about to hit the ladder that led to the trap door. As he grew closer, he heard the cracking of wood and felt the heat from below him like he was being roasted.
The dream came back. The old nightmare of the fire burning beneath him and Merik’s sick glare returned. He saw his old village mates all watching, all waiting for him to die. He almost stopped, the fear trying to overtake him.
With effort, Edin pushed it from his mind as he gripped the ladder. He couldn’t see anything behind him, though he heard the justicar yelling, “Climb you rotten dirty slag! Get the abomination or I’ll kill your entire family!” The shrieking sounded like a little girl in a murky pond as something slimy brushes past her leg.
A moment later he heard a cry from below. “Edin!” It was Berka’s voice. Edin grinned.
“Traitor.” There were other voices and suddenly he heard swords clattering in the smoke below. Edin had no time. He couldn’t see and he was nearly toasted. He climbed the ladder and reached for the latch. He felt it but couldn’t get it to move.
Noticing the suppression of the wan stones was there, but slight, he felt for the talent. The one he’d had the longest. Ethereal knives appeared in his mind and in his hand and Edin whipped his hand up. Suddenly, two shafts of light appeared and Edin pushed on the trap door.
It was heavy, but after a good thrust, it flew open and clattered into something. Edin threw the quarterstaff up there and grabbed for the lip. He pulled himself up as he and the smoke began pouring out into the glassy room. It was warm and there were giant mirrors all around and what looked like a wick for a huge oil lantern in the center.
The smoke would begin to pool in here. He took the staff, felt the ethereal power in the stroke and whipped it around his head. The talent-laced quarterstaff slammed into one of the windows.
The shattering explosion sent shards flying into the open sky and raining down on whatever was below. Edin hit something else too. A wooden beam that held up the conical wooden roof above his head. The beam cracked in two and another window shattered.
“Oh poo.” Edin said.
Then another. Suddenly and moving from left to right and continuing around him, each window shattered in turn. Then the mirrors. Crash, crash, crash.
It went on for nearly a full minute and just as the last one was exploding, Arsholnol pulled himself out of the hole like a gopher escaping a flooded burrow.
He leapt into the room and stumbled to the side. It barely took a moment to see where he was stumbling toward. Falling out of the tower would’ve been fine with Edin, but he was stumbling toward the already broken post.
Arsholnol grabbed it and put too much weight into it.
The roof bounded down a few more inches and was now angled precariously toward the sea. He looked around at the airy room and then at Edin.
A moment later, the justicar appeared. He grinned wickedly at Edin and drew his sword.
Edin saw that despite Arsholnol having his weapon drawn, he held it loosely and was pointing it toward the ground.
Edin stepped back as the justicar approached. He could feel both the open air and the suppression of the wan stone growing.
Suddenly, he noticed his heel wasn’t touching the already leaning tower. To the right a few feet, the wooded floor was nearly black. Charred like a good barrel for a bourbon.
Then a large piece of the char fell. Flames burst up in a ball and then went out just as quick. Arsholnol looked at the ground beginning to crack and then at the justicar.
Edin didn’t have that luxury. He glanced behind him at the vast ocean. He was maybe fifty feet above the ground on the easternmost point of the lighthouse and there was at least ten feet of frozen land before the icy water.
Edin felt faint for a moment as he swayed. Or was it the tower that swayed. He got a quick image of déjà vu and then waited.
The justicar came at him as fast as he could. Time slowed around Edin. One of the posts holding up the roof buckled over the fire. Then the tower began to tilt even more. Like a top on a single strand. But he knew there was nothing that held up the center.
It was slow and Edin was able to adjust his feet and shift his weight.
The justicar did as well. He slashed his sword, the blade crashing into the center of Edin’s ironwood staff, Edin twisted it and shoved him back. The terrin readjusted and came in at Edin’s legs.
Edin jumped it as the tower began to drop. He noticed the wide, frightened eyes of the Arsholnol. He was staring around wide-eyed as the tower began to fall in on itself at a near forty-five-degree angle.
Edin blocked another slash but the justicar must’ve known that would happen because he twisted his blade on impact and thrust at Edin’s head and neck.
Edin craned his head away from the attack as the world outside seemed to rise incredibly slowly. Suddenly, the oil lantern at the center dropped from sight like popping the seed from a half-eaten peach.
It was moments from fully collapsing and he certainly didn’t want to be inside when it did.
Edin released the staff with one hand and swung it around with the other in a great arc. It caught the justicar in the hip with a painful thwack. He grimaced and Edin stepped back, turned, and leapt.
He fell at a much faster speed and heard the tower cracking behind, breaking. He saw frozen land and then cold water beyond. There were sharp rocks there too and he looked to be missing them by a few inches.
With a last push, he sent air into his backside and scooted ahead and into the freezing water.
He felt a concussive blast as he dropped beneath the surface. Edin gasped as all of his breath was sapped from him and his sight went white.
For a moment, he remembered his vision blanking at the beginning of the attack. Then it happened again. Something appeared before him. It was someone’s sight, someone’s essence pushing into his head like a blacksmith pounding an inlay into a forged blade.
Edin, or more accurately, his mind stood on the precipice of a cliff and before him, a great lake sat still. Bordering it were mountains and the water was clear and blue. He felt as if he were seeing through Arianne’s eyes again.
He gasped and took in a lungful of freezing, saltwater.
The vision faded and he saw the seabed a few inches from his face. Edin pressed a hand to the silt and arrested his descent.
Edin twisted as his vision was going dark. He pushed his feet into the seabed and thrust up. Barely a second later, his head burst through the surface and he was looking at the burning wreck of the lighthouse. It was a heap of flames and wood. Edin swam to the rocks and pulled himself up.
The heat from the fire was the greatest beacon he’d ever seen. As Edin climbed he saw Berka racing around the edge of the tower toward him.
Berka reached down and grabbed Edin, pulling him out of the water and onto the edge of the now thawing peninsula. After some shuffling over the ground they reached within feet of the burning fire and he began to dry.
He coughed and his lungs burned. The saltwater came up and out in painful, horrendous gasps and wretches. Edin’s vision blackened again and he vomited for what felt like ten hours.
Edin’s chest burned as he began to regain some semblance of what was happening. The warmth from the fire tickled his downturned head. Around him the fire crackled and the waves slapped at the rocky shore.
Edin thought he heard whistles and bells somewhere beyond it but couldn’t be sure. As he opened his eyes and looked, he saw the bodies.
Arsholnol’s eyes were wide, his beard all but burnt off showing his weak chin. Next to him was the justicar’s arm. The black sleeve and his sword were all that was visible.
“Come on,” Berka said. “Get up, they’re coming.”
Edin blinked and looked at him. “What? Why?” Edin said. “I need to see the duke. I need to speak with Merik.”
“I’m not sure you do,” Berka said. “There was a fire at the duke’s place. A few men said they saw you start it.”
Edin remembered Arsholnol talking about the fire, about burning down their already burnt hut. “Rihkar? Henny? Dorset?” Edin asked.
“They’re fine, at least as far as I know. I was with them looking for a boat this morning when the fire started. The Por Fen found us and took the two magi into their custody. Not sure how they found out about Dorset.”
Edin tried to stand, he needed to get to them, if they had Dorset and his father, they’d be as good as dead. “We have to get them.”
Berka shook his head. “You’re being hunted. They were seen when the fire started, we all were seen by many people when it started. All of us, but you.”
“Then how’d you find me, how’d you get free?” Edin’s teeth chattered.
“Merik let me go and I saw you staring at that tower last night. I followed a hunch.” He grabbed a bundle of white and set it before Edin. “You dropped these,” Berka said.
Edin unwrapped his cloak and pulled his sword from the center. “The ranger?”
“Didn’t make it out.” He said and nodded toward the tower.
“What now?” Edin said wrapping the warm cloak around himself. The shivering had already stopped but now he was growing warm. “Do we stay or do we go?”
“Well, if we wait for the duke and you tell your story we could exonerate you. But there’s the possibility they do not believe you; then you and the rest of us are executed.” He paused there. “Or we run.”
Edin glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “We?”
“I don’t think you standing around doing nothing is the best way to defeat these demons,” Berka spat. “We need a plan; you need a plan. You said there were elves, you know where they are but you won’t tell… is that true?”
Edin nodded and thought about the basin, the giant lake he was overlooking while in the water. Arianne was there. He thought. He was almost a hundred percent positive about that. He saw the mountains and could picture grasslands and surrounding large foothills. Despite the great height, Edin could see animals, some large, others small lounging on sand beaches.
Where was that place? Edin wondered.
“So, we stay and talk, or we leave and try to save the world. What do you think?”
Edin didn’t have to answer. Arianne was out there and he needed to find her. He picked up the sword and nodded.
“Come on, I’ve got a pair of horses,” Berka said. “Swiped them from a couple of army officers who looked at me weird. One called me a ginger. Can you believe that?”
“Yes,” Edin said pulling himself to his feet.
3
The Permission Slip
While they tried to flee, they came into a bit of a problem. Despite the winter, the forest was too dense to flee through. The half barren bushes and saplings as well as spindly groundcover were like tall hedgerows.
The only trail out of the place was a single path and that was covered by soldiers coming to figure out what had happened to the lighthouse. Edin and Berka didn’t get far.
“Halt!” They heard as they came upon a group of guards. The leader, rather ornery looking, was a captain and one that had been a little behind Edin during their march into town. Edin heard him once say, “I’d never believe I’d march behind a damned abomination unless he were leashed.”
The entire platoon drew their weapons and advanced. Quickly, Edin drew his. “Mage… you are under arrest for suspicion of murder…” he looked over Edin’s shoulder. “And destruction of vital property!”
“Murder?” Edin scoffed. He remembered the soldier fleeing from the fight and shook his head. “I didn’t murder—”
“Silence. Sergeant, bound their hands and take them in—”
“He’s a mage and we don’t have a wan stone,” the sergeant said. The man, a boy really, only a few years older than Edin, had a worried look on his face. None of them except the captain were probably career soldiers. Edin assumed they were all draftees.
“I will head to the duke myself,” Edin said. “Now get out of my way.”
Despite his wanting to just run, he had to go to the duke and throw himself on the young man’s mercy or wisdom. If not, the alliance was doomed and with it, everyone.
“We will not give you an audience with the duke armed, the general gave orders that you are not to approach the duke at any point.”
“Oporius is at the wall,” Berka said. “He left this morning. Now out of our way or the mad mage will slaughter you all…” He said this quietly, trailing off and in a tone of voice that caused the men, even the captain, to take a step back.
The men looked around at each other and then moved to the side of the path while Edin and Berka kicked on. They made good time and he enjoyed hearing the huffing from the soldiers behind the horses as they tried to keep up. When they moved next to each other, Edin told Berka he’d have to see Sinndilo. He’d finally stopped being a fugitive for the first time in nearly a year and decided he didn’t want to go back.
“I’d bet the Wanted Poster artists would be happy for you to be wanted again. More work.”
As they reached the end of the forested path, he could see smoke still rising from over the trees where the lighthouse had stood. The captain was panting a few yards behind.
“Where is the duke?” Edin said.
“You can’t go see —”
Edin summoned a culrian around the captain and his voice was instantly cut off. He turned toward the sergeant. “Can you answer my question?”
“They call it Wilmerts House.” He pointed to the north. “On Second and Wilmerts Drive.”
“Wilmert must’ve been a hell of a guy.” Berka said as an aside.
“Thanks. You can all go back to your duties,” Edin said dismissing them before heading toward the location where the sergeant pointed. As he turned the corner around a tall building, he released the culrian and he saw the captain drop to the ground like he’d just run a dozen leagues.
Edin grinned and then thought about Arianne. He had to do this right, he had to get out of this place and find her. The horses clapped along the road and he caught sight of a few people watching them.
There looks didn’t feel right. After another turn they came to a tall and wide house built from w
hite and gray brick with a pair of guards standing before the door. Behind them were additional sentinels, tall white lions were standing on their hind legs and reared up, ready to strike.
As they approached, he felt the suppression of a wan stone. Ten feet from the guards, they dismounted and started toward the entrance handing the horses off to a soldier that appeared. The man eyed the steeds. He probably recognized them and knew they’d been stolen. Or borrowed Edin thought.
“No weapons,” the first guard said, moving up. “For either of you.”
Berka snorted. “He is a weapon…” he thumbed toward Edin.
Edin shot a quick look at him. It was true but why bring it up to people who were barring an entrance?
“The Inquisitor has left this for you.” He opened his palm and revealed a small wan stone attached to a length of thin chain.
Edin needed to get the duke to let him leave. He shrugged and glanced at Berka as he took off his sword. Did he know something Edin didn’t? Edin handed it to the guards.
There was a commotion behind them and the group turned to see. The captain was jogging up the street toward them with his men a bit further behind. His face was as red as a ripe apple and he was panting. A pipe smoker probably and one that shouldn’t lead troops into battle. Edin thought.
“I arrest—” He huffed as he approached. He stopped to catch his breath and placed his hands on his knees.
Edin raised an eyebrow. In a moment, he guessed the captain would throw up. He probably was an officer that led from the rear.
A coward. Edin thought and instantly, he felt disdain for the man and sorry for his soldiers. The officer was probably a noble who bought his commission not a man who earned it.
“Lord Icari?” the guard next to Edin and Berka said. “Are you alright?”
Edin was right and the noble-turned-captain pushed against his knees with great effort and tried to stand fully upright, then he put his hands to his kidneys and he stared at, no not at, but beyond the men before him. He couldn’t even meet their eyes.
“He didn’t arrest us,” Edin said.